


What Shadows Can See

by purplehairedwonder



Category: Supernatural, Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-31 13:04:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/344336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplehairedwonder/pseuds/purplehairedwonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some vampires make a stop in Mystic Falls while hunting the Winchesters. Alaric calls said hunters for help in clearing the mess up before any civilians get involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to my earlier fic "Remember the Name," though to understand this story, all you need to know is that Sam called Alaric looking for information about the Alpha Vampire since he was a hunter in vampire territory. While that fic was super short and self-contained, this story will be several chapters at least.

Alaric was nursing a drink at a table at the Mystic Grill when the front door opened to admit two unfamiliar guys. The shorter of the two—though he still had to be over six feet tall—stepped into the restaurant ahead of his companion and scanned the room with a practiced eye; Alaric could just about trace his gaze as he looked for any immediate threats, noted exit routes, and cataloged each person in the room, though that didn’t take long. The Grill was just about empty since it was near closing on a weeknight.  
  
The man’s gaze lingered on Damon, who was taking a sip of his drink at the bar, for a moment before continuing its sweep. If Damon noticed the extra scrutiny, he didn’t show it. Alaric hadn’t wanted any prying ears for the meeting he’d scheduled, but Damon was determined to get his own read on the infamous hunters before discussing the business that had brought them to Mystic Falls.  
  
The second man stepped in behind the first, filling in the space behind the shorter man the way only a long-time partner could, clearly knowing exactly where the other was and being ready to move to compensate at the slightest change; though they weren’t looking at each other, it almost seemed like there was a gravitational pull between them. His gaze followed his partner’s, also scanning the room with an experienced eye. Standing in the doorway, both men held themselves with a quiet confidence that came from years of training—an easy grace that Alaric had never quite mastered and envied when he saw it, whether on these men, the Salvatore brothers, or other dangerous beings he’d come across.  
  
With their initial scan complete, both of the newcomers’ eyes locked on him, and Alaric raised his glass toward them in invitation. He knew without a doubt that these were the men he’d been waiting for. A brief glance passed between them before they headed for his table.  
  
“Alaric Saltzman?” the second man asked, his voice sounding familiar from the phone.  
  
“Guilty,” Alaric answered. “Which makes you Sam and Dean Winchester,” he added, nodding to the taller and shorter man respectively.  
  
Dean’s eyes narrowed and the air temperature dropped. His near growl was steeped in suspicion as he spoke. “We never gave a last name on the phone.” Or at least his brother hadn’t since he’d been the one Alaric had spoken with on both occasions they’d talked. “How’d you know?”  
  
Alaric shook his head and put his glass down on the table with a clank. He crossed his arms against his chest and leaned back in his chair. “Doesn’t take much to string a few clues together. Not when every hunter in this hemisphere knows your names, anyway.”  
  
For a beat, Alaric thought he’d miscalculated and his stomach dropped as Dean’s face remained impassive, but then the dangerous cold surrounding him faded and his lips quirked up.  
  
“Just this hemisphere?” he quipped, slipping into a chair across from Alaric. He waved his arm to get the bartender’s attention. He pointed at Alaric’s glass and held up one finger.  
  
Sam rolled his eyes and sat down next to his brother. Though the table was wide, the brothers sat with their shoulders nearly touching; neither seemed to notice the proximity.  
  
After that exchange, Alaric tried not to stare at the men in front of him but couldn’t help himself. Looking at them—at the tired circles under their eyes, the various scars that were visible around their multiple layers of clothing hinting at countless ones unseen, the look in their eyes they both had of having seen too much—he couldn’t help but believe much of the hype surrounding them. There were a lot of stories about the good and the evil, the lives and the deaths of these men that made them sound like everything from heavenly warriors to Satan incarnate; they were big league, yet here they were, sitting across from Alaric at a table in a small town Virginia restaurant because he’d asked for their help.  
  
They were just men, Alaric knew, but there was just something about them that seemed a little larger than life; like they had seen it all and were still going forward anyway. And suddenly Alaric felt humbled to be sitting across from them and tried not to fidget.  
  
Sam’s eyes tracked the bartender’s progress across the restaurant, and he waited to speak until the bartender had brought Dean’s glass and left. “We were surprised to hear from you,” he said.  
  
Alaric grimaced mildly but nodded anyway, his words only briefly catching nervously in his throat. “I hadn’t exactly planned on it. But like I said, something came up; seemed up your alley.”  
  
“And you need our help,” Dean concluded, taking a gulp of his drink. When Alaric nodded once more, Dean went on. “Is it vamps? Mystic Falls is pretty much vamp central, isn’t it?”  
  
“Vampires can be traced to the founding of the town itself,” Alaric replied, glancing briefly toward the bar. “The founder’s council today is still tasked with protecting the town.”  
  
Though he could only see Damon’s back, the tension in his shoulders said he was listening in. They’d agreed only to give as much information as they had to so they didn’t seem to be hiding anything until they had a good measure of the Winchesters; they didn’t need infamous hunters making problems for all the supes in town.  
  
Sam’s eyebrows had gone up at that. “Interesting.” It wasn’t often a hunter came across a town with such blatant ties to and knowledge of the supernatural, after all.  
  
“More like a pain in the ass,” Dean retorted.  
  
“Or a little of both,” Alaric shrugged. Dean snorted and took another long gulp, finishing his drink. He signaled the bartender for another. Sam pursed his lips but said nothing. “But that’s not exactly why I called you,” Alaric added as the bartender brought Dean’s second round.  
  
“Then why?” Sam asked once they were alone again. There was something about him that made Alaric want to spill out his words as fast as possible, to trust him with everything he knew. It was a strange feeling to get from a complete stranger, yet Sam exuded calm empathy and trustworthiness that belied his rather demonic reputation.  
  
“A new nest of vampires came into town about a week ago. That in itself isn’t unusual, considering, well, you know,” Alaric said, waving his hand around him. The Winchesters nodded. “But these vampires are different.”  
  
“Different?” Dean asked, leaning forward slightly. While Dean’s tone didn’t carry the same invitation to speak that Sam’s did, there was a confidence to his bearing that made Alaric feel like he could tell him the truth and that he’d handle it. “What do you mean?”  
  
“They’re not like any vampires I’ve ever come across. And I’ve seen my fair share.”  
  
“Meaning?”  
  
“The feeding style is all different, for one. The teeth, the bloodlust…it just doesn’t match up with what I’ve seen.” Alaric rolled his shoulders as he searched for the words. “There’s just something _off_ about these vampires.”  
  
“Because most vampires give you the warm and fuzzies, I’m sure,” Dean drawled. Sam stepped on his foot hard under the table and Dean rolled his eyes but shut his mouth.  
  
Alaric tried not to smile. He’d heard about their close—if not codependent—relationship and was reminded a bit of the Salvatores when looking at them. Huh.  
  
“What do you mean about the teeth and bloodlust?” the younger Winchester asked after sparing a glare for his brother.  
  
“These vampires seem to have an entire second set of teeth for feeding,” Alaric said. “Every vampire I’ve come across in Mystic Falls simply has fangs.” Sam frowned but waved him on to continue. “As for the bloodlust, there’s no visible sign of it. The local vampires…they change when they want blood. In their faces,” he explained, gesturing generally at his own face for effect.  
  
“Huh,” was all Sam said, though he looked thoughtful.  
  
“Want to share with the class, Sammy?” Dean said after a long moment when it was clear Sam was lost in thought.  
  
Sam blinked, his eyes coming back into focus. “What? Oh. It’s just, the strange vampires you’re describing sound like every vampire Dean and I have ever come across.”  
  
That took Alaric by surprise. “What?”  
  
“Bobby Singer has a theory that there are different species of vampire,” Sam went on, voice picking up strength as he spoke. Damon’s posture had stiffened at the bar, Alaric noted with some interest. “The vamps that we’ve come across all have their origins from the Alpha Vampire.”  
  
Dean had gone slightly pale at that and Sam glanced his way, something flashing across his face so quickly Alaric couldn’t make it out. Dean shook his head minutely and Sam bit his bottom lip, looking uncertain.  
  
“The one you were hunting when you called me the first time,” Alaric said in an effort to break up the awkward moment between the brothers.  
  
Sam cleared his throat, schooled his features, and looked back to Alaric. “Yeah, that’s the one.”  
  
“So, what’s different about those vampires and the ones from Mystic Falls?”  
  
“You said the origin of the town can be traced back to vampires?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“That wouldn’t happen to be the Originals you mentioned, would it?” Sam asked.  
  
Alaric blinked. “Yes, actually.”  
  
Sam nodded, like a suspicion had been confirmed. “Then I think it’s safe to say we have different species of vampire due to the origin of their creation.”  
  
Dean blinked and frowned at his brother. “What are you talking about?”  
  
Sam smiled slightly. He seemed perfectly in his element, discussing the academic side of the occult. As a teacher, Alaric could relate and tried not to smile.  
  
“I think the vampires in and around Mystic Falls must trace their origins back to these Originals, while the other vampires come from the Alpha. Two origins, therefore two species. Variations on a theme.”  
  
Alaric frowned, remembering back to that phone call months ago. “I thought you said the Alpha was the one to turn the Originals. Wouldn’t they have their origins from him, then?”  
  
Sam shook his head. “The more we dug, the less likely that scenario seemed. We never found the Alpha after talking to you, but we did find info about some attempts to create new supernatural species.”  
  
Dean’s eyes widened slightly as recognition crossed his face. “Eve.”  
  
Sam inclined his head at his brother. “That’s what I thought, too.”  
  
“Eve?” Alaric echoed uncomprehendingly.  
  
“The Mother of All.”  
  
“Wicked bitch from Purgatory,” Dean added, his grip tightening around his glass. “She’s the one who made all the alphas.”  
  
Alaric blinked. _Purgatory?_ They were saying it like it was an actual place…  
  
“Eve might have tried to create a variation on her Alpha Vampire,” Sam continued, pulling Alaric from his thoughts. “And that somehow led to the creation of the Original family.”  
  
“And two different species of vampire,” Dean concluded. “Well isn’t that peachy.”  
  
“Fascinating as this is,” Alaric said after a moment, deciding this was way beyond his pay range, “it still doesn’t change the reason I called you guys specifically.”  
  
“What do you mean?” Dean frowned.  
  
Alaric swallowed and glanced toward the bar, but Damon was gone. He’d probably gone back to the Salvatore house to inform Stefan of what he’d just heard. Which meant it was time for Alaric to follow suit. “Knowing what these things are is good, sure, but there was something else about them.”  
  
“What is it?” Sam asked in that infuriatingly calm voice.  
  
Alaric shrugged. “They were talking about following a certain scent.” He glanced between the Winchesters. “Yours.”

\-----

  
Elena opened the door to the Salvatore mansion as Alaric, followed by the Winchesters, headed up the porch steps. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised to see her here, though he hated seeing her this close to harm’s way; since becoming not only their teacher, but a pseudo-parental figure through dating Jenna, he’d come to feel particularly protective of Elena and Jeremy.  
  
“What are you doing here, Elena?” Alaric asked as she ushered them into the entryway.  
  
“I wasn’t planning to stay, but I was here with Stefan when Damon came back,” she said, closing the door behind Sam. She looked almost comically tiny in comparison to the Winchesters. She glanced up at them before looking back at Alaric. “So this is them?"  
  
Alaric nodded. Elena glanced back at the hunters.  
  
“I’m Sam. This is my brother, Dean,” Sam said, nodding toward his brother and holding out a hand to Elena. She took it and her petite hand was dwarfed in his.  
  
“Elena.” After letting go of Sam’s hand, she nodded at Dean before looking back to Alaric. “Stefan and Damon are in the drawing room.”  
  
She turned down the hallway and Alaric beckoned the bemused Winchesters to follow. They were taking a lot on faith at this point, though it wasn’t like they were exactly helpless if things turned sour for them. Between the two hunters and two vampires in the house, Alaric wasn’t sure who he’d put his money on and he hadn’t even seen the Winchesters in action yet.  
  
When they entered the drawing room, they found Stefan sitting on the couch and Damon standing by the fireplace, which had a small blaze within. Dean’s eyes narrowed at the sight of Damon, obviously recognizing him from the Grill and realizing he and his brother had had something pulled on them, but the vampire just smirked back.  
  
Stefan rose as Elena went to his side. Alaric turned to the Winchesters. “This is Stefan Salvatore and his brother Damon.” He glanced back at the vampires. “Guys, this is Sam and Dean Winchester.”  
  
“The famous hunters,” Damon quipped from the fireside.  
  
“So what exactly are we doing here?” Dean demanded, eyeing Damon irritably.  
  
“When the vampires got to town, they reached out to Stefan and Damon here,” Alaric answered.  
  
“Why them?” Sam asked.  
  
There was a moment of heavy silence before Stefan spoke. “Because we’re vampires as well.”  
  
“What?”  
  
Stefan took a breath and extended his fangs. The hunters tensed and Alaric didn’t blame them; it probably looked like they were being double-crossed. But Elena stepped in front of Stefan before they could make a move.  
  
“Stefan and Damon were alive at the founding of Mystic Falls,” she said. “This is their home more than anyone’s.”  
  
“We don’t want any trouble,” Stefan added, retracting his fangs and putting his hands up placatingly.  
  
“Speak for yourself, brother,” Damon snorted.  
  
Alaric glared at the snarky vampire and could feel Stefan’s and Elena’s glares as well. Damon sighed and relented. “Fine. No trouble here.” He took a sip of the drink in his hand and nodded at the Winchesters. “What we _want_ is those vampires out of our town. The sooner the better.”  
  
“And why should we believe you?” Dean demanded.  
  
His hand looked like it was ready to draw what Alaric assumed was a gun at the small of his back even though he knew it wouldn’t do him much good. There was just something comforting about having a weapon, even a useless one, in hand in a dangerous situation. Neither he nor Sam had relaxed a muscle.  
  
“Because, like Elena said, Mystic Falls is our home,” Stefan said, stepping up next to his girlfriend. “And we have enough problems on our plate already.”  
  
“Besides, if we wanted to kill you, you’d have been dead before entering the city limits,” Damon added unhelpfully.  
  
Dean clenched his jaw. “I really doubt that.”  
  
Damon wiggled his eyebrows at the hunter and Alaric would have smacked him were he in arm’s reach.  
  
Sam sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose between a thumb and forefinger. Dean had opened his mouth, but his attention turned immediately to his brother at the movement. “Sam, you okay? It’s not…” He trailed off, looking around the room suspiciously before returning his gaze to Sam.  
  
Sam shook his head. “No, Dean. It’s not the wall. Just a headache from the overflow of testosterone in the room.”  
  
“That’s ‘cause you’re a girl, Samantha,” Dean muttered but visibly relaxed after one final glare in Damon’s direction.  
  
Alaric had no idea what the “wall” was that Sam mentioned, but was amazed at how quickly he was able to defuse his brother with just a few words.  
  
Sam looked up at Alaric then. He looked tired in that world weary sort of way. “Sorry. It’s just… Well, we don’t have the best track record in trusting the supernatural.”  
  
Dean snorted bitterly. “You could say that again.” He had edged closer to his brother, like he would be ready to catch Sam if he suddenly fell. Sam glanced in his direction, noticing the shift but not commenting.  
  
“Things have just gone bad when we’ve gone down that road,” he continued instead.  
  
“Apocalyptically bad.” Sam failed to hide a flinch and Dean immediately looked sorry for having said it, but he didn’t take it back.  
  
“We’re not looking to buy a condo,” Damon said with an eye roll. “Trust or not, these vampires are in town and we just want them gone.”  
  
“So why don’t you do it yourselves?” Dean demanded, sparing another brief glance for Sam.  
  
He was definitely worried about something going on with Sam, though hell if Alaric knew what it could be. He was going to have to do some research of his own when this was over.  
  
“Because, like I said, these vampires seem to know you,” Alaric broke in.  
  
“They said they’d been trying to track your scent,” Stefan added. “But that something had changed.”  
  
Sam and Dean exchanged a look at that, and it seemed to Alaric like an entire conversation took place in the matter of moments. Finally the moment ended and Sam looked back to the room at large.  
  
“Once a vampires—well, once this species of vampire, anyway—gets your scent, they get it for life,” he said.  
  
“And we’ve wasted plenty of vamps in our time,” Dean added. His voice was grim but there was a measure of pride in it as well. Stefan shifted slightly, seeming to have noticed the same thing.  
  
“So these guys could be any number of vampires,” Alaric concluded.  
  
Dean nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets. “A vamp that got away somehow, the mate of some vamp we took out looking for revenge, some idiots looking to make a name for themselves… I dunno what to tell you. Until they show their ugly mugs, we won’t know for sure.”  
  
Damon coughed, but Sam spoke over him. “What I can’t figure out is why they thought you’d be able to help. We’ve never been to Mystic Falls.”  
  
That was something Alaric was confused about as well. His only contact with the Winchesters had been over the phone a few months ago—a call that hadn’t lasted five minutes. He’d never expected to hear from them again. And Damon and Stefan claimed to have never crossed paths with the Winchesters either, so it made no sense.  
  
“Well, whatever the reason, there isn’t much we can do about it tonight,” Alaric said with a shrug.  
  
“We could always go looking for the sons of bitches,” Dean said, turning to Alaric. “You have any idea where they might hide out?”  
  
But it was Stefan who spoke. “Vampires were among the original founders of the town,” he said. “There are countless places around the town and in the surrounding areas to lay low in. You’d never be able to search them all.”  
  
“Not without letting them know you were onto them, anyway,” Damon added helpfully.  
  
“They’re right,” Elena said as she linked her arm through Stefan’s in a show of solidarity. “The best thing to do is get some rest and face it again tomorrow.”  
  
“Look, we don’t want anyone getting hurt because of us,” Sam said with a frown. “The sooner we can deal with this, the better.”  
  
“No one’s been hurt yet,” Alaric replied. “They seem pretty set on their goal.”  
  
“That doesn’t mean they won’t hunt.”  
  
“That’s why we’ll be out tonight,” Stefan said. “Damon and I will keep an eye out.”  
  
“We will?” Damon blinked. At the chorus of glares directed at him, he backed off. “Fine, we will. Not like we need to sleep or anything so _human_ ,” he sneered in Dean’s direction.  
  
Sam elbowed Dean in the ribs before his brother could respond in kind. For whatever reason, the two older brothers had taken an immediate disliking to each other.  “Fine. We’re staying at the Mystic Inn. Room 117. You have our number, right Alaric?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Great. We’ll be in touch,” the younger Winchester said, steering his brother out of the room.  
  
Alaric followed them out of the room and into the hallway. “I’m sorry about Damon,” he said as they reached the front door. “He’s pretty much a dick until you get to know him. Then he’s, well, still mostly a dick, but manageable.”  
  
Sam gave Alaric a wan smile. “No, we get it. He doesn’t like new vampires encroaching on his turf, and then you bring in hunters who kill his kind professionally to take care of it when he’s used to being the big bad, right?” His smile widened marginally at Alaric’s nod. “We know the type. It’s okay. The sooner we get this taken care of, the sooner we’ll be out of your hair and he can forget we were ever here.”  
  
Alaric huffed a laugh and gave a quick wave as the Winchesters headed for the classic Chevy they’d driven into town. He’d never say it aloud, but he was pretty sure Damon was also having some car envy to boot. Once the car had pulled out of the driveway, Alaric shut the door and headed back inside, ready to give his vampire friend a smack upside the head.

\-----  
She watched as the black Impala pulled out of the Salvatores’ driveway and headed back into town and smiled to herself. She knew tracking their phone calls would eventually lead to gold if their scents wouldn’t after all these years. She followed the car’s progress to the Mystic Inn and made note of the room number the boys dragged their stuff into before dissolving back into the night. Things were going to get interesting now that she’d finally found them after years of unsuccessful hunting.

\-----

  
_tbc…_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some vampires make a stop in Mystic Falls while hunting the Winchesters. Alaric calls said hunters for help in clearing the mess up before any civilians get involved.

“I dunno, man,” Dean said as he shut the door behind them.  
  
Sam dropped his duffel on the far bed and turned to look at his brother. “What?”  
  
Dean dropped the bags he was carrying on the floor and raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean _what_? That whole freak show back there is what. You just wanna go along with it?”  
  
Sam sighed and ran a weary hand through his hair. His head had been aching all night—practically since crossing the city limits into Mystic Falls it seemed—and he hadn’t had a chance to take anything, especially out from under Dean’s prying eyes. He was not in the mood to have this argument right now even though Dean seemed dead set on it—no pun intended.  
  
“Look, we can’t just ignore that innocent people might be getting hurt because of us.”  
  
Dean gave him a disbelieving look. “Considering the source, you really believe it?”  
  
Sam shook his head. “I know I’m the last one to preach here, but don’t we at least have to check it out? Alaric’s a hunter, after all.”  
  
“A hunter who conveniently forgot to mention that he was BFFs with vampires.” Dean brushed past Sam and flopped down in a chair, propping his feet up on the table. “I’d consider that a red flag.”  
  
“We called him in the first place, remember? And Bobby seems to think he’s alright.” Dean shrugged and Sam went on. “And I know you don’t like that Damon guy—” Dean snorted. “But he’s right. If they wanted to hurt us, they could have done it a hundred times over today.”  
  
“Sneaky bastard spying on us in the bar. I _hate_ sneaks,” Dean grumbled.  
  
“So either they’re telling the truth and we stop the vamps in the town looking for us, then put Mystic Falls in our rear view or they’re lying and we deal with it like we always do.”  
  
“Poorly?”  
  
Sam groaned and sunk down onto the edge of his bed, rubbing his face in his hands. “Dean.”  
  
Dean crossed his arms. “There’s no talking you out of this, is there?”  
  
Sam looked back up and shrugged. “I’m sure soulless me would have ganked them all just out of principle, but that’s not me _with_ a soul.”  
  
Dean straightened at that. “Sam…”  
  
But Sam shook his head, ignoring the intensified ache at the movement. He knew Dean was worried about him going down that road, but that wasn’t the point he was trying to make. “Just a gut feeling, okay? Let’s at least look more into the town and what they’ve told us. If nothing else, maybe we can find out something more about Eve.”  
  
Dean looked like he wanted to argue further, but he backed off after glancing at Sam. Dean’d had hawk-like eyes on him since he’d gotten his soul back so wasn’t likely to miss even the smallest irritation.  
  
“Hey man…”  
  
“I’m fine, Dean.”  
  
Dean rolled his eyes and dropped his feet to the carpeted floor with a muted thud and leaned forward. “Yeah, that was real believable.” He pushed himself to his feet. “Still have a headache?”  
  
Sam sighed. There was no point in hiding it—not when Dean had that look on his face that meant he was going to get his way no matter what when it came to looking after his brother. “Yeah.”  
  
Dean nodded and headed for his bed. He grabbed the med kit from where he’d dropped it on the floor. He opened it up and started rummaging through it. “You take anything?” he asked, glancing briefly over his shoulder.  
  
“No. Haven’t had the chance. Just kinda hit me back there.”  
  
Of course, Dean thought _back there_ meant the Salvatore house and Sam wasn’t going to correct his assumption. Even though it had been a few months since he’d gotten his soul back and, outside of the one seizure in Rhode Island, he was doing alright, Dean was still looking for excuses to coddle him.  
  
Dean made a triumphant sound and turned to toss a pill bottle at Sam. Sam caught it out of reflex and checked the label to make sure it wasn’t the stuff from Dean’s personal stash that he’d been trying to push since Sam’s Hell-seizure. Sam had made a point to stop self-medicating after setting Lucifer free, considering how _that_ form of self-medication had worked; anything stronger than over-the-counter was coming from nothing short of a hospital trip. Satisfied that it was just Tylenol, he unscrewed the lid, grabbed a couple pills, and dry swallowed them.  
  
He tossed the bottle back to Dean, who snagged it mid-air. Suddenly exhausted, Sam toed off his boots and shoved himself back against the headboard. He shut his eyes for a moment, but opened them again as Dean made to put the bottle back in the med bag but changed his mind and put it on the bedside table. Sam raised an eyebrow at him and Dean just shrugged.  
  
“You gonna take a shower tonight?” he asked, turning back to his bag.  
  
Sam glanced toward the bathroom, thought about how nice the hot water would feel on his tense muscles after the day’s vampire-filled events, but the distance from his bed to the bathroom seemed longer than it was worth. At this point, all he wanted to do was crawl under the covers, shut his eyes, and let the pain killers take effect. He shook his head and slumped slightly against the pillows.  
  
“Nah, in the morning. All yours.”  
  
Dean frowned a moment but nodded. He grabbed a few things from his duffel and headed for the bathroom. He grabbed the remote off the TV and tossed it to Sam on his way past. Sam nodded at him and set to channel surfing. He eventually settled on some B-horror flick—the kind that he and Dean always enjoyed watching late into the night and laughing at. He slid further down on the bed, resting his hands across his stomach. The familiar sounds of Dean moving around in the bathroom and the running water mixed with the humming of the television had Sam’s eyes drooping in no time.  
  
He yawned and managed to put the remote on the bedside table before he fell asleep.

\-----

 

That night, Sam’s dreams were filled with fire and ice, pain and violation, fear and hopelessness.  
  
With whispers of “Sammy” that sounded so _wrong_.  
  
And with laughter.

\-----

 

Laughter was ringing in Sam’s ears as consciousness slowly returned, as if his dream refused to let him go. He groaned and opened his eyes but shut them immediately against the light. It felt like that split second had opened the door to his headache all over again. After a long moment, he slowly opened his eyes again and stared up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the throbbing in his skull.  
  
He felt shaky with some lingering fear, but couldn’t quite grasp what he’d been dreaming about. All he knew was that it had been a nightmare. That had been happening more and more often since Rhode Island, but Sam made a point to ignore the constant itching in the back of his mind whenever he woke up. He didn’t need to go through _that_ again. Sam swallowed and pushed the thought away. He wasn’t going there, not now.  
  
Looking for any distraction, he realized in surprise that he’d been covered by his blanket. He didn’t actually remember getting ready for bed the night before. Dean had gone to take a shower and Sam had settled in with some werewolf flick…  
  
“Obviously you fell asleep, moron,” Sam muttered to himself. But he couldn’t help smile slightly when he realized Dean must have covered him up. He’d been so sure what only seemed like a few months before to him that he’d never see Dean—or anything, really—ever again. And he’d been okay with that; scared, but okay. He’d made peace with his choice to jump into the pit. But being able to experience moments like this again despite everything—despite Hell, despite the wall in his head, despite everything he’d done, and everything he and Dean had been through—meant more than he could put into words. And it wasn’t like Dean would ever let him say it anyway; Winchesters were more about showing rather than telling, after all.  
  
Speaking of his brother… Sam glanced around the room. Dean’s bed was empty and there was no sound coming from the bathroom. With a sigh, he rolled over and saw the pill bottle and a glass of water with a piece of paper wedged between them. He snatched the paper and glanced over the brief note.  
  
 _Sam—_  
  
 _Was starving so went to get food since your lazy ass decided to sleep in today._  
  
 _Take something if your head’s still killing you. Back soon with caffeine and grub._  
  
 _Dean_  
  
Sam snorted to himself and shut his eyes again, folding the note up. Figured Dean would go from obnoxious older brother to mother hen in the space of one line in a note. But Dean was fine and Sam was bone-tired. He hadn’t slept well at all. And going on the job exhausted was a liability. And since vampires were nocturnal… Sam started drifting back to sleep.  
  
 _Wait, ‘sleep in’?_ Sam’s eyes flew open again when the thought hit him and he looked at the clock. 10:24. Huh. Sam rarely slept later than eight or eight-thirty unless they’d been hunting the night before.  
  
Or he was sick.  
  
Ah. Dean’s note and the pill bottle were making a lot more sense now. He really wished he hadn’t given Dean cause to worry, but at least his brother was willing to leave long enough to get food.  
  
When his head gave a throb, Sam sighed tiredly and grabbed the pill bottle. He shook out a couple and took them with a long gulp of water. After a moment, he managed to pull himself out of bed and throw on a pair of clean jeans and a t-shirt. He had brushed his teeth and was splashing some water in his face when there was a knock on the door.  
  
Sam turned from the sink with a frown. They always put out Do Not Disturb signs so housekeeping wouldn’t get in. Dean wouldn’t knock if he’d lost his keys. But who else would it be in the middle of the day like this? He checked the salt lines and protection sigils on his way to the door and peered through the peephole.  
  
And blinked in surprise.  
  
“Hey,” Elena said with a small wave when Sam opened the door. “Glad you were here.” She glanced around the parking lot for a second before turning back to the door. “When I didn’t see your car, I thought you guys might be out or something.”  
  
“Dean’s getting food.” Sam paused. “Shouldn’t you be at school or something?”  
  
Elena gave him a sheepish smile. “I bailed. I should be in history right now, but Alaric teaches it.  He’ll understand.”  
  
“And cover for you?” Sam asked, leaning against the doorframe.  
  
“And cover for me,” Elena confirmed.  
  
And then the rest of the sentence registered. “Wait, Alaric’s a teacher?”  
  
Elena laughed. “What, is that weird?”  
  
Sam shrugged. “I guess not. Just… hunting is usually a full-time commitment. Most hunters are on the road a lot. And doing not so legal things. Regular doesn’t tend to mesh well with the life.”  
  
Elena’s hand fidgeted slightly with her purse strap. “He’s pretty much settled in Mystic Falls, I think.”  
  
Sam shrugged, not knowing what else to say to that, and stepped aside. “I assume you didn’t just drop by to ditch history class. You want to come in?”  
  
She nodded and stepped in. “Thanks.” She turned to look at him as he shut the door behind her, fixing the salt lines in the doorway with his bare foot. “Though you should be careful about inviting people into your room. Damon says motels are gray areas on ownership.”  
  
Sam frowned. “What?”  
  
“You know, vampire town,” Elena said, sitting down on the chair Dean had occupied the night before.  
  
Sam sat down on the edge of Dean’s unmade bed. “Huh. Your vampires have to be invited in?”  
  
Elena looked nonplussed at that. “You mean yours don’t?” She shook her head. “Sorry, still processing that there are different kinds of vampires, I guess.”  
  
Sam shrugged. “Most of the vampire lore out there doesn’t much apply to the vampires Dean and I’ve hunted. Garlic, wooden stakes, holy water, invitations... All crap. The sun burns their skin enough to make going out in the day uncomfortable but not unbearable.”  
  
Elena crossed her legs. “Weird. You said stakes don’t work?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Then how do you kill them?”  
  
“Decapitation.” Sam smiled grimly at that. “That tends to work on just about anything.”  
  
“No kidding.” Elena shrugged. “Stakes kill our vampires. Decapitation works too. And fire. Oh, and werewolf bites are fatal as well.” She broke off, flushing and laughed breathlessly. “Sorry, word vomit there for a second.”  
  
Sam waved off her embarrassment. “So what did you need, Elena? Dean’s gone on a food run so it could be hours if he found pie.”  
  
Elena shook her head, her long ponytail swinging behind her. “It’s fine. I just wanted to apologize for last night. For Damon, mostly,” she added. “He’s an ass but he’s not a bad guy. Not now, anyway. He and Stefan have a… complicated history. And he’s gone through some stuff lately. But I trust him. And so does Ric—Alaric” she clarified at Sam’s blank look.  
  
“Right.”  
  
“Damon just… he doesn’t trust easily. And he _hates_ asking for help.”  
  
“Sounds familiar,” Sam said, thinking back to the pissing content between his brother and the dark-haired vampire.  
  
“I got the impression your brother might be the same,” Elena said with a thoughtful nod.  
  
Sam shrugged. “It’s been just me and Dean for as long as I can remember. Our dad raised us in the life. We moved around all the time as kids, a new school every time he took a new job. Dean’s been the only constant. We’ve been working together all our lives. We know each other better than anyone, so working with other people…”  
  
Sam scratched the back of his neck as he searched for the words. He wasn’t sure why he was telling this teenage girl that he’d only met the night before about this, but she seemed interested. And understanding—which only people somehow involved in this strange life really could be. “It’s hard to break pattern when that’s what you’re used to.”  
  
“And Stefan and Damon are vampires…”  
  
Sam frowned. “Yeah, that’s also a big part of it.”  
  
“You said something about not having a good track record trusting the supernatural?”  
  
Memories of Ruby threatened to rise and Sam stamped down on them as quickly as he could. Time might have passed for Dean, but with his Death-induced amnesia, those memories still felt very present. His head gave another throb and he sighed.  
  
“A few years ago, I was in a bad place and I trusted someone I shouldn’t have.” Sam rolled his shoulders uncomfortably. “Let’s just say the consequences were… dire.” Though sometimes Sam wasn’t sure whether it was Dean’s loss of trust in him or his apocalyptic screw up that hurt worse.  
  
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pried. That’s was incredibly rude of me,” Elena said, throwing her hands up in front of her and looking embarrassed again.  
  
Sam gave her a wan smile. “It’s alright. Just understand there’s good reason for us to be hesitant.”  
  
“Got it,” Elena agreed. “And we really wouldn’t have called you guys if it wasn’t something we thought we could deal with on our own. Normally Stefan, Damon, and Ric would be enough. Damon getting to the point of trusting Ric enough to ask for help was enough of a stretch."  
  
“Something about there being enough on your plate already?” Sam asked.  
  
Elena smiled weakly and nodded. “You could say that.”  
  
She sounded so sad, so tired that Sam felt his heart aching for her. Though she was young, Sam recognized the look and sound of someone who had seen too much too soon. This girl was older than her years; Sam knew how that was. He would never wish that on anyone.  
  
“Anything we can do?” he asked.  
  
“Have you ever heard of a vampire named Klaus?”  
  
“Klaus?"  
  
“He’s one of the Original vampires.”  
  
Sam considered, but his mind was full of obscure monster facts and anything he’s been able to track down about Purgatory. If he’d heard the name, it wasn’t ringing any bells. “Can’t say that I have.”  
  
"How about the Sun and Moon Curse? It’s Aztec.”  
  
Sam racked his brain once more, but his knowledge of ancient supernatural lore wasn’t as sharp as it could be. “Sorry, no.”  
  
“Then I think getting rid of these vampires will be enough.”  
  
Sam nodded and ran a hand through his hair. “We’ll do what we can.”  
  
Elena nodded. “Damon and Stefan agreed to meet again after school’s out at their place. Ric will meet us there.”  
  
“During the day?”  
  
“Well, Stefan and Damon have a wa—”  
  
Whatever Elena was about to say was cut off when the door burst open. Sam and Elena both jumped to their feet. Sam whirled around to cover Elena but barely had time to register a blur before a hand gripped his throat. It squeezed and Sam felt his feet leave the floor right as he was tossed into the wall.  
  
Sam’s head slammed back and his vision went white. He thought he might have heard a female scream as he crumpled to the ground. As color returned, the room was still spinning. He shut his eyes and reopened them, trying to orient himself.  After a long moment, Sam could finally see straight again.  
  
His stomach dropped at the sight.  
  
A man in a leather jacket stood behind Elena with a thick arm across her throat. Elena was looking frantically at him but she couldn’t seem to get a strong enough breath to say anything. If Sam had to guess, he’d put his money on it being that guy who threw him into the wall. Two other Hell’s Angels rejects stood flanking the door.  
  
“Vampires?” Elena mouthed.  
  
Sam nodded and his vision went white again. It took a moment for him to catch his breath and see straight again. _Likely concussion, duly noted_ , Sam thought wryly to himself.  
  
When he looked up, a woman was standing in the doorway, smiling. She also had on a leather jacket and tall heels. Her hair was pulled back but otherwise looked the same as the last time Sam had seen her what felt like lifetimes ago.  
  
“Sam Winchester,” she said, stepping across the salt line without a second thought. “It’s been a long time. You’ve changed.”  
  
Sam slowly shoved himself up to sit straighter against the wall. “Kate. You haven’t changed at all.”  
  
In a blur, she was kneeling right in front of him and Sam suppressed a flinch at the invasion of his space. It was a little too close to sparking something in the back of his mind…  
  
“Perks of being immortal,” she said, putting a hand flat against the wall next to Sam’s ear. “I’ve been looking for you and your brother for a very long time.”  
  
Sam glanced toward Elena then back at Kate. “Well you found us—well, me, anyway.” He gave her his best Dean smirk. He’d always taken comfort in channeling his brother’s attitude when he was in deep shit. “Dean’s not here, obviously. So why don’t you let the girl go and we can talk. She has nothing to do with this.”  
  
“That’s where you’re wrong, Sammy.” She smiled back at Elena. “That girl is insurance against the Salvatore brothers.”  
  
Elena made a noise of protest but was quickly silenced by the behemoth of a vampire holding her.  
  
“And besides, Klaus would be very happy to have his doppelganger away from Elijah. Klaus gets the girl and I get my revenge.”  
  
Elena’s face had gone pale at that, but before Sam had time to wonder at what the vampire meant, Kate grabbed him by the hair and slammed his head back into the wall. Everything went black.

  
\-----

  
_tbc…_


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some vampires make a stop in Mystic Falls while hunting the Winchesters. Alaric calls said hunters for help in clearing the mess up before any civilians get involved.

Dean was humming along with Zeppelin as he pulled into the motel parking lot. He hated leaving Sam alone when his brother was feeling shitty, but there was a coffee shop less than a mile from the motel and he knew Sam would want some caffeine when he woke up. Sam was always groggy after a bad night—a problem that only his girly coffee seemed to solve, Dean had found over the years. Headaches had plagued Sam since childhood, only getting worse into adulthood with his visions and powers, so mornings like this weren’t uncommon, though with the wall in Sam’s head threatening to topple at the slightest breeze, Dean couldn’t help his inside-gnawing worry every time Sam looked even remotely ill.

He rounded the corner and that worry ratcheted up about six notches. The door to their room was wide open. Could mean anything, Dean told himself as he swung the Impala into a parking spot a few spaces down—just in case. Because really, it was more likely that Sam had gone to the ice machine and left the door open so he didn’t have to bring a key. Or he could have gone for a run to clear his head and didn’t latch the door. He could have—

Fuck, when was that ever the case in their lives?

Dean got out of the car and pulled his gun from the back of his jeans. No way in hell was he walking around a vampire-infested town without some kind of protection on him; vamps might come out at night, but who knew what else might be in a town that was so closely tied to the supernatural. He stuck to the side of the building and crept along wall to his door. There wasn’t any sound coming from inside, but he took the safety off anyway.

After several seconds of nothing, Dean peered around the doorframe and let out a string of curses before clicking the safety back on. The room was empty, but there had obviously been a struggle. A quick search the room turned up no Sam, but the sheets from Sam’s bed were on the floor, a purse was spilled over the table, and there was a small bloodstain on the wall across from Dean’s bed. Dean’s stomach twisted at the sight. He was pretty damn sure he knew whose blood that was.

But just to be sure, Dean pulled out his phone and hit Sam’s number on speed dial. He started when he heard buzzing coming from the bedside table. Dean cursed again and hung up his phone. He _knew_ coming to a vampire town was a bad idea. He _knew_ leaving Sam alone was a bad idea, even just for a few minutes. The two mixed could only mean very bad things. Had they been double crossed? Had the Salvatore vamps sold them out? Dean shook his head as he ran through possible scenarios. No, that didn’t make sense. This had happened within the last thirty minutes in broad daylight. Vamps should be sleeping. So what?

Dean grabbed Sam’s phone and found Alaric’s number; he hadn’t bothered putting it in his own phone since Sam had been the one to talk to the other hunter.  At least he might have an idea of what they were dealing with and whose face Dean could pound in until he got his brother back—and then some more for good measure. He dialed Alaric’s number, but it went straight to voicemail.

“Son of a bitch,” he growled, ending the call. He scrolled through the rest of the numbers in his brother’s phone, but didn’t find anything useful. Mostly Campbells, and like hell Dean would call them for help after what Samuel had pulled. It didn’t seem like Sam had the Salvatores’ numbers either, which meant Dean was flying solo at the moment. He pocketed Sam’s phone and went back to inspecting the room.

He frowned at the overturned purse. Sam must have had a visitor sometime after Dean had left—but was it a visitor who had taken Sam or was just in the wrong place at the wrong time? He knelt down to inspect what had spilled onto the carpet and pulled out a cell phone. He turned it on and shook his head; the wallpaper was a picture of that Elena girl and vampire boyfriend Stefan in some park. So Elena had come to visit… So had she been taken when Sam was or had she fled?

Or had they both fled?

Or…

Dean shook his head. No, he wasn’t going there. This was getting him nowhere and definitely wasn’t helping Sammy. And then he did a double take at the phone’s wallpaper and gaped. The picture had been taken during the day.

“What the hell is going on here?” he demanded, turning in a circle again to look around the room. Even if Sam was feeling crappy, it would still take something pretty damn strong to take him down—though if they had taken the girl as a hostage, then his bleeding heart brother (god it was good to have him back) might have gone willingly… Though the blood on the wall said otherwise.

Dean raked a hand through his hair. “Okay Winchester, think.”

It would have taken something with supernatural strength to take Sam down. They were in a vampire town. There was a picture on Elena’s phone of a vampire not burning alive in the middle of the day. So, if they had somehow found a way to walk in the day, the Salvatores were back on the suspect list.

But the spilled purse said Elena had been taken, not gone willingly. If the Salvatores had been involves, she likely would have, too. So, someone else in town had taken Sam and Elena.

Someone like the nest of vampires that had brought the Winchesters into town in the first place.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean cursed again. “Freaking vamps.”

What Dean needed now was a lead. And for that he needed people who knew the town, the supernatural population, and the new vampires. Which meant he needed Alaric and the Salvatore brothers. With Alaric not answering his phone…

Dean groaned and scrolled through the contact numbers on Elena’s phone. It was like the ABCs of Mystic Falls: Alaric, Bonnie, Caroline. And Damon.

With a shake of his head, Dean called the vampire.

“Elena,” Damon answered on the second ring, “not that I am not _thrilled_ to hear from you first thing in the morning, but shouldn’t you be in school with my baby brother? Ric called to say you skipped class.”

“Damon, this is Dean. Winchester,” Dean managed to grind out. The vampire just oozed sleaze as far as Dean was concerned. He got under Dean’s skin in a way very few people could—the Gordon Walkers and Zachariahs of the world.

“Dean.” Damon’s voice changed from teasing to irate in a heartbeat—or lack thereof, Dean amended with a snort for himself. Sam would have groaned at the joke and Dean tried not to think about that. “Perfect.” The eye roll was practically audible. “Why do you have Elena’s phone?”

“Because I just got back to my motel room to find the door open, signs of a fight, _my_ baby brother gone, and Elena’s purse on the floor,” Dean replied tersely. He didn’t have time for a pissing contest when his brother’s life was on the line. “I’m guessing she came to visit and was nabbed by whatever took Sam.”

Damon let off a string of curses that even Dean couldn’t help but be impressed by. Seemed living forever gave you time to learn inventive curses. Duly noted.

“So that’s why she wasn’t in Ric’s history class this morning. She went to visit you morons,” he muttered. “Figures.”

“Watch it,” Dean growled back.

But Damon ignored him. “Okay, you still at your motel?”

“Yes.”

“I’m on my way. I’ll get Stefan and Ric.”

\-----

  


Elena sat cross-legged in the back of the van, her hands tied in front of her with zip-ties that bit painfully into her skin. Sam was still unconscious, though his wrists and ankles were also bound, and Elena had taken the hunter’s head into her lap to check for any injuries. She found blood matted in his hair in the back where the vampire—Kate, Sam had called her—had slammed his head against the wall.

Sam had slumped bonelessly to the floor after that, and Kate had grabbed him and tossed him over her shoulder like he weighed nothing despite his size. The other vampires had followed her into the parking lot, dragging Elena along like a paper doll. They’d tied up both their hostages and shoved them into the back of the van, which was complete with tinted windows for the sunlight impaired. The hulking guys had gone up front while Kate had stayed in the back, shutting the door behind her.

Elena had no idea how long they’d been driving, but she could only hope Stefan or Ric or Sam’s brother would realize something was wrong soon and come looking. Sam wasn’t looking good and Elena didn’t stand a chance on her own. She swallowed. These vampires were in league with Klaus—they wouldn’t kill her, not when Klaus needed her for his ceremony. But that didn’t mean they wouldn’t hurt her. Nothing said the doppelganger needed to be in perfect health when the hybrid drained her.

She glanced over at Kate, who was watching Sam with a curious expression on her face. Elena bit her lip before speaking. “He knew you,” she ventured. She’d been moderately surprised that Sam had actually known the vampire hunting him and his brother, considering Dean’s comments the night before about having wasted more vampires than they could count.

A pained expression crossed Kate’s face. “I’m surprised he remembered, actually. I crossed paths with the Winchesters about seven years ago.”

Elena glanced down at Sam. Alaric had given them a brief rundown of the Winchesters’ backstory before they’d come into town—they’d been raised in the hunter’s life by their father, who was an infamous hunter in his own right, but that they’d become pretty damn famous on their own, getting tied up with demons and angels and stuff far above his pay grade... Ric had only been hunting since Isobel’s disappearance, which hadn’t been all that long ago, truthfully. But the Winchesters had been in it their entire lives… She briefly wondered what Sam and Dean had been like seven years ago but said nothing.

“Those boys and their father… They kidnapped me, poisoned me, killed people in our nest and…” Kate shook her head. “They killed my mate. Luthor.”

“Your mate?” Elena asked in surprise. Admittedly her vampire experience wasn’t extremely wide, but this was the first she’d heard of mates.

“My kind breed for life, honey,” Kate said bitterly. “And dear daddy Winchester shot Luthor in the head with a magic gun. And now I’m left alone for eternity…” Elena felt a momentary pang of pity for the vampire before remembering that she’d been kidnapped.

“The only thing keeping me going has been hunting down these sons of bitches all these years. John Winchester might have died before I could get my fangs into him, but these two will do. And I’m not the only one who wants them dead. They’ve been like ghosts—hell, I’ve heard that they’ve _been_ ghosts a time or two. But they look alive enough now, don’t you think, doppelganger?”

“My _name_ is Elena.”

Kate smiled predatorily. “So the doppelganger’s got a spine after all. Cute. Won’t do you any good, but it’s cute.”

Elena opened her mouth to retort but shut it again when she felt Sam shifting. She looked down at him and watched as he slowly returned to consciousness. His eyes opened to slits once before shutting again. He moaned softly and opened his eyes again. He seemed to take in his surroundings with a practiced eye—the type of gaze Elena had seen Alaric use when entering an unfriendly situation—including Elena. He jerked against his bonds a couple of times before giving up. Elena recognized the pain in Sam’s eyes—waking up from a blow to the head like that had to hurt like hell—but he pushed it aside, focusing on the danger.

“So he lives after all,” Kate said, eyes lighting up. “For now.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed as his gaze settled on the vampire. “That’s more than I can say for you,” he replied, before his lip curled up in a mocking expression as he struggled to sit himself up. Elena grabbed his shoulders and helped steady him. Sam spared her a brief glance before turning back to his captor. “And your mate. What was his name?”

“Luthor,” Kate ground out.

Sam made a show of nodding thoughtfully. “Ah, right. It was just so long and so many vampires ago.”

His snark took Elena by surprise, since he’d seemed so genuine and, well, friendly from the couple of times she’d talked with him. But looks could be deceiving, she supposed. After everything she’d been through in the last year, that seemed truer than ever.

“Asshole,” Kate hissed at him. “He was my _mate_.”

“Is that what this is about? That we killed your boyfriend seven years ago?”

“Luthor was everything to me. And you boys and your father took him from me,” Kate growled, sounding very much like an animal. Elena would have backed away from the tone if there had been somewhere to go.

But Sam just shrugged, which seemed to infuriate Kate more. “You took the most important thing from me, so I’m returning the favor. I’m sure Dean won’t like to see your motel room empty when he gets back.”

Sam’s cocky expression faltered for a moment, but he schooled himself quickly—and that’s when Elena realized what he was doing. He was provoking the vampire on purpose to keep attention on him; he remembered Kate’s name and how long ago they’d crossed paths... Elena was sure he remembered the mate’s name as well, but was trying to get a rise out of Kate, and it was working.

“Messing with me was the worst possible thing you could do,” Sam informed her. “That’s what got your mate killed, as I recall. Had me by the throat, so my dad shot him. And Dean’s going to do the same to you...” He smiled coldly, looking very much like a predator himself despite being a captive. “Assuming I don’t get the chance first, anyway.”

“You arrogant son of a bitch,” Kate hissed and launched herself at Sam, her second set of teeth descending.

Elena shoved herself away, though there wasn’t much room in the back of the van. Sam hissed as Kate’s teeth bit into his neck. He screwed his eyes shut as Kate pulled his hair back by his hair. Kate took several gulps before pulling back from Sam with a wide-eyed gasp. Sam’s blood dripped from her chin. Sam slumped, but opened his eyes tiredly at the interruption.

“What—” Kate broke off, wiping her hand across her mouth.

“Kate, what is it?” one of the vampires in the front asked, turning around.

“Your blood,” she said, still staring at Sam. “It’s… different.”

Sam snorted. “No shit.” His words weren’t quite slurred, but he was definitely straining to stay conscious. Elena had no idea what was going on, but Sam seemed to know what the vampire meant. He sounded almost resigned, though that could have been the blood loss.

“Different?” the hulk of a vampire repeated.

“It’s…” Kate trailed off as she searched for the right word. “Intoxicating,” she said finally. “I feel _powerful_.”

“Perfect,” Elena thought she heard Sam mutter under his breath.

Kate retracted her teeth and leaned back on her haunches. “Slight change of plans, boys,” she said, finally turning to the other vampires.

“What, he’s not going to be bait anymore?” the driver asked, glancing back in the rearview mirror.

Kate shook her head. “No, he’s still bait for Dean. The Winchesters are going to pay for what they did to Luthor and all our friends.”

“So what?”

Kate nodded toward Sam, who had lost consciousness at some point in the conversation. Elena thought that was probably for the best at the next words. “I’ve never tasted blood like his before. So we keep him alive as long as possible. And we feed.”

“What about Klaus?”

“Screw Klaus,” Kate snapped. “He’s not even one of our kind. He got us the Winchesters, sure, but this? He has no right to this.” She smiled and Elena felt a shiver run down her spine. “Sam Winchester is officially feeding stock.

  


\-----

  


Dean looked up from his pacing around the motel room at a knock at the door. He checked his gun before peering through the peep hole. When he saw who was on the other side, he opened the door and stepped aside. Damon, Stefan, and Alaric stepped inside.

“Thanks for the call, dear,” Damon said as he stepped past Dean. “Didn’t take you for the type to call the morning after.”

Dean really, _really_ didn’t like that guy.

Freaking vampires… walking in the day like they were human. Dean shook head as he shut the door behind them. The vampires he knew could walk in the day, though it hurt like hell so they’d never be able to keep it up for long. The Salvatores, though, didn’t seem bothered at all. He wondered if it had to do with the different vampire breeds but somehow doubted it.

He was going to get answers eventually. But right now he needed to focus on finding Sam. And that meant cooperating with certain day-walking night creatures.

Stefan’s eyes had gone immediately to the spilled purse. Dean hadn’t moved anything since calling Damon—except the dust in his path as he paced.

“What happened?” Stefan demanded, looking up from his girlfriend’s belongings.

“I went out to get coffee. Sam was still asleep when I left. I was gone maybe half an hour, and when I got back, the door was wide open. Everything else was like it is now,” Dean replied tersely. He’d been going over possible scenarios while he waited and they’d gotten progressively bloodier the longer he dwelled.

“Elena must have come by while you were gone,” Alaric said, crossing his arms against his chest as he looked around the room. “I got worried when she wasn’t in class this morning.”

“Me too,” Stefan grumbled, looking through Elena’s belongings once more—probably to make sure nothing was missing, Dean thought with some annoyance. Elena must not have filled him in on her plan.

Dean glanced over at Alaric. “In class?”

“Ric teaches history at Mystic Falls High,” Damon said. He was checking out the blood spot on the wall and hadn’t even looked up.

Dean raised an eyebrow at the other hunter, but Alaric just shrugged. “I like history,” he said.

“You and Sam, couple of nerds,” Dean muttered under his breath. Alaric huffed a laugh. At least he could admit it. That was a point in his favor, Dean decided.

“This isn’t Elena’s,” Damon said of the blood, more to Stefan than anyone else.

“Is it Sam’s?” Alaric asked.

Damon frowned. “It’s not vampire… but it doesn’t smell entirely human either. Mostly human, but there’s something... different.”

“Then it’s Sam’s.” Which Dean had already suspected.

“What?”

“What does that mean?”

Dean shook his head. “As disturbing as it is that you can tell there’s something different about it,” he said, “it’s definitely Sam’s.”

Stefan knelt next to Damon and frowned. “What _is_ that? I’ve never smelled anything like it.”

“It’s not important,” Dean growled. “What matters is where my brother and your girlfriend are. Let’s try thinking about that, huh?”

“Considering where we are,” Alaric said, tone reasonable in a way that reminded Dean of Sam and made his stomach clench with worry, “the blood could be a clue. What is it, Dean?”

Dean frowned at the three sets of eyes watching him. He debated how important the information was—and how mad Sam would be if he said anything—but finally shrugged. It didn’t seem like these guys were going to let up until he explained and, as loath as he was to admit it, he needed their help to find his brother.

“Sam was tainted by a demon’s blood as a baby. I’m guessing that’s what you smell.”

Damon and Stefan shared a long look before Stefan turned to Dean. “That makes sense. Would the vampires hunting you know about this?”

Dean frowned. “The ones you called us about?” Stefan nodded. “Considering how I have no idea _who_ they are, I don’t know. Why?”

“Because drinking this blood would be like a major drug trip to a vampire,” Damon said, pushing himself to his feet. “There’s power in Sam’s blood—and I can think of plenty of vampires who would kill to get their hands on some.”

Dean shrugged. “We’ve played the demon blood thing pretty close to the vest, but shit gets around. I don’t know.” Sam’s demon blood addiction seemed to have gotten around the hunting community at one point, but Dean had no idea if that gossip had included Azazel’s blood taint or not.

“If that were true,” Alaric said, “then the vampires would want to keep him alive. To keep the blood supply fresh.”

Stefan nodded but Dean shook his head. “ _If_ that were true. It probably means nothing. What we should be doing is looking for the vampires that came here looking for me and my brother. Cash money says they’re the ones that have Sam and Elena.”

“Like we said last night, the town was partially built by vampires. There are countless places in and around the town they could be hiding. It would be like looking for a—”

“A needle in a haystack of vampires,” Dean finished wryly.

Stefan rolled his eyes but nodded. “Basically.”

“So what then? I’m not just leaving my brother.”

“And we’re not just leaving Elena,” Damon snapped in return.

Dean returned the glare, but it was Alaric who finally broke up the staring contest. “Look, whoever took Sam and Elena are long gone by now. We’re not going to find out anything more here.”

“So what then?”

“So,” Damon said, pulling out his phone, “I put my connections to use.”

Dean raised an eyebrow and Alaric shrugged. “Sheriff Forbes is a friend of Damon’s. She’s also on the Founder’s Council so knows about the vampires. People go to her when they hear things, so if anyone will know anything about vampire problems in town, it’s her.”

“She can get her people looking for Elena, if nothing else,” Stefan added.

“Great. And what are we supposed to do?” Dean demanded. He hated feeling helpless, especially when Sam was in trouble.

“We go back to the house and start looking through maps,” Damon said as he hung up his cell. “We can try to narrow down our search parameters.”

“What did the Sheriff say?” Stefan asked.

“She’s got her people on it.”

\-----

  


It was dusk as Dean pored over a map alongside Alaric in the Salvatore’s drawing room. Stefan and Damon were in and out of the room all afternoon, doing god knows what to help with the search. Dean really, really hated being left out of the loop.

“I heard you the first hundred times,” Alaric said with an eye roll when Dean grumbled at Stefan leaving the room again. “That’s just how they operate.”

“Vampires,” Dean grumbled.

“I heard that,” Damon called from the hallway.

“Good!”

Alaric sighed and took a gulp of his drink. Dean reached for his own when his phone went off in his pocket. He put his glass down and grabbed his phone, stopping dead at the name on the caller ID.

_Sammy_.

\-----

_tbc…_


End file.
